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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787939">A little bit of magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicr/pseuds/manicr'>manicr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (Comics), Marvel 616, Punisher (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Sexual Harassment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicr/pseuds/manicr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody loves the Punisher. But why?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle/Henry Russo, Frank Castle/Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Punisher/Bullseye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A little bit of magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanAm77/gifts">CanAm77</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Old Punisher fic 2013</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Raffaello Fendi was a collector of weapons and curiosities. Currently, his collection was serving Frank Castle well as a means of killing his men and Fendi himself. Raffaello had, as every ambitious mobster, tried to muscle into the power vacuum Frank tended to create when he offed entire mob families. Thankfully, this meant that every up-and-coming goomba came out of the woodworks after a job well done, and it made it so much easier to take them out as well.<br/><br/>Frank broke yet another glass case and threw the ornate dagger at a charging enforcer’s chest, he faltered with a surprised look on his face and fell. Casually, Frank armed himself with weapons - knives, guns, swords, and a set of WWI grenades - wrapping one of the blades - a very sturdy-looking knife, probably more than a few centuries old -  in a faded fabric he tore from another display, hiding it in his clothes. It turned out that he didn’t need that amount of caution as bullets and explosives made short work of Raffaello and his men. He shot the head man himself in the head as he tried to run for cover. Without much further ado, Frank set fire to the villa and walked into the September gloom as it took light behind him. <br/><br/>Shrugging down in his coat to hide from the rain, Frank walked to his car. With a wince he settled behind the wheel, he had a cut on his hand – the blood was making his grip slippery. Frank grabbed the knife he’d hidden away and removed the cloth, using it to wipe off the blood and tied it around his hand. He discarded the knife in the, now mostly empty, duffle bag. Without any further preamble, he drove to the apartment building he was currently using as a base. <br/><br/>Henry was out. Getting food with all likelihood. Frank grabbed a beer and started going through case files - nothing major but a lot of small activity going on. Bad news. Something big was coming and making all the little ones scurry for cover. Frank toyed with the new old knife - it was very well balanced - as he thought. He needed to get on the streets. Get the intel first hand. Strapping up with new hardware, Frank settled for an all-nighter. With half a thought, he left a note to Henry. The kid got worked up when he couldn’t get a hold of him, especially when he wasn’t packing an earpiece and Frank couldn’t afford to go where he was going with electronics.<br/><br/>He knew the usual places to find snitches and lowlife willing to spill, not that he was very <em>welcome</em> there considering the bodies he left behind. But he could keep it civil when necessary. Rule number one was no wire. Rule two was no violence. He could at least keep to one rule.<br/><br/>On his way some thugs caught his attention assaulting a woman. Without much thought or consideration, Frank stabbed one in the neck and shot the other in the knee only to finish him off with a shot to the head. Targets down, Frank checked if the woman was injured. She seemed fine if shaken.<br/><br/>“Take a cab home,” he told her flatly.<br/><br/>“Oh my god. <em>Thank</em> you! Thank you!” she sobbed and threw herself at him, Frank nearly startled as she sobbed into his chest. The overly emotional ones always bothered him.<br/><br/>“Go <em>home</em>,” he said once and pried her off him. She kissed him on the mouth in reply and ran off to the street. Shaking his head at her display, Frank headed for his target.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/><br/>The bar was ordinary and utterly uninviting - it was mean to be. Its clientele was more interesting; Frank settled down next to a weasel-like man with glasses and a nervous disposition. The man stared up at him with terror.<br/><br/>“<em>Ngk</em>,” the man squeaked.<br/><br/>“I want intel. You get to decide if it is <em>before</em> or <em>after</em> I blow your kneecaps off,” Frank told him evenly.<br/><br/>“<em>Before</em>. Or not at all,” he replied, “w-what you want?”<br/><br/>“–it’s the Punisher–” <br/><br/>“–let’s get out–”<br/><br/>“–I’m not stickin’ ‘round–”<br/><br/>The patrons around them were slipping away but Frank paid them no attention. Weasel here was usually good for the intel.<br/><br/>“I want to know what’s got all of you rats scurrying away,” Frank said and shifted his coat to show his gun.<br/><br/>“A big hit is going down. Big players are getting into town; every crazy motherfucker you can think of. <em>No one</em> wants to be around when that show hits the streets,” Weasel spilled and stared at him, flushing strangely. <br/><br/>“Frankie! Long time no smell,” an annoyingly familiar voice greeted behind him.<br/><br/>“<em>Deadpool</em>,” Frank gritted, “you here for the hit?”<br/><br/>“Naah, not me. I’m here with my mate Weasel for some crossover shenanigans. You’re looking particularly manly today, Frank. Got yourself a new cologne - Eau de Carnage and Musk?” Deadpool blabbered and put a hand on Frank’s shoulder and smelled him - his <em>goddamn</em> face was nearly pressed against Frank’s hair. Frank - purely on principle - broke his wrist and nose.  <br/><br/>“Who is the hit?” Frank asked Weasel and shot Deadpool in the kneecaps as a reminder of his threat.<br/><br/>“Some idiot who pissed off the Kingpin. I <em>swear</em> I don’t know anything else. I don’t even have a name. <em>Please</em>,” Weasel begged and stared at both him and Deadpool bleeding and blabbering on the floor, looking more nervous and flustered than usual. <br/><br/>“You said big players. Who?” <br/><br/>“<em>B</em>-<em>Bullseye</em>. I heard that he’s in flying in today,” Weasel stammered. Frank cursed under his breath. A hand gripped his leg and he shot Deadpool in the head on reflex.<br/><br/>“Anyone else?” He pressed on.<br/><br/>“I don’t know. I’m– I’m not in that side of business anymore. I do tech, alright,” Weasel said, “I only know that the word is that anyone who is somebody will be on it. The Kingpin wants overkill.”<br/><br/>Without a word, Frank rose to leave.<br/><br/>“Hey, hot stuff. I would <em>really</em> get that checked out,” Deadpool hollered from the bloody pile he was on the floor. Frank frowned and it took him a few moments to realize that a) Deadpool was referring to him, and b) that he meant his hand. He hadn’t changed bandages and the wound felt sore. Careless. He was risking infection. Frank left the bar, leaving only a spare thought to the fact that that freak Deadpool had noticed the wound and how he’d reacted to it. He filed it under irrelevant for now.<br/><br/>Back at the base, Henry had returned. Frank settled down with a medical kit and started to clean his wounds and getting Henry up to date on the next shit storm. The kid fretted a bit but got to work, hunting down everything that there was to know about the hit and who was involved. Turned out that there wasn’t much but they got a name: <em>Mercutio</em>.</p>
<p>They didn’t know if it was a person, a place, or a code but it was a start.<br/><br/>Frank settled to clean his weapons as Henry worked on the computer, it didn’t take him long to notice that Henry kept on glancing at him. Frank had removed his t-shirt to better get at his wounds, nothing major just cuts and scrapes now taped, stitched, and cleaned.<br/><br/>“What?” Frank asked and started to field-strip an AR-15, using the charging handle to pull the bolt carrier assembly back and catch it with the bolt hold-open lever, inspecting the chamber.<br/><br/>“W-what? Nothing,” Henry mumbled and went back to his screen. Less than five minutes later he was doing it again. Frank sighed and safely put away the pieces he was cleaning.<br/><br/>“Henry. Look at me,” Frank ordered. Henry startled and turned in his seat, flushing slightly at being caught staring. “Now, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on.”<br/><br/>“Nothing, Frank. It’s fine,” Henry told him and Frank knew that he was lying. The kid was a lousy liar; too scared and weak to lie well. Frank didn’t like being lied to. With a few steps, he was standing in front of Henry and pulling him up from his seat by his hoodie.<br/><br/>“Talk." Henry stared at him with big eyes and flinched.<br/><br/>“Please just… Frank, I’m sorry,” Henry stammered and flushed deeper, a trembling hand pressed against Frank’s naked chest and touched the scars and stitching with reverence. Frank’s eyebrows shot up his face. Henry was breathing heavy and shaking in his grip, but not out of fear. Frank let him go but Henry seemed to have lost whatever self-control he had and pressed up against him, standing on his tiptoes he pressed a kiss against Frank’s mouth, sucking at the scars on his lips. Frank shoved him off him immediately, Henry fell to the ground in sprawl and sent his chair rolling away.  <br/><br/>Frank grabbed a t-shirt and his coat as well as a set of guns, he pointed one of them at Henry who was still on the floor, frozen in horror and shock. <br/><br/>“<em>Stay</em> here,” Frank gritted and his brain tried to make sense of everything - things started to fall in place. The woman, Deadpool, and now Henry. There was a pattern. But it didn’t make sense. He needed answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/><br/>It was some time after the fourth man Frank had beat up that he noticed two things. One, the longer he was in contact with a person the more– <em>interested</em> they became in him. Two, he was being followed. He shot the thug, he hadn’t known anything, and being called “hot” was getting disturbing. <br/><br/>“I know you’re there. Come out,” Frank demanded and waited. The sound of a light fall had him turn around and point his gun at the crouching shape. <br/><br/>“Why are you following me?” he asked even though he had a good idea why Daredevil was stalking him.<br/><br/>“I got word that the Punisher was making trouble,” Daredevil stated evenly, “That usually spells trouble on a much larger scale - and I don’t like the body count that implies. What is happening, Frank?”<br/><br/>“Hn. I’m trying to find out. Best you stay away. There have been some <em>complications</em>,” Frank replied and holstered his gun. <br/><br/>“I could help, Frank. If you let me,” Matt offered and walked closer with his hand offered, Frank backed away pointedly.<br/><br/>“Don’t <em>touch</em> me. If you want to help, find out what or who Mercutio is.” He walked away, wanting to avoid another incident, but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He reacted before Daredevil has a chance to get too close, kicking him in the gut and pointing the gun at him again.<br/><br/>“I mean it, Murdock, stay away from me,” Frank repeated and backed away gun still held on its target until he could get enough ground between them. Daredevil remained crouched on the ground with a bewildered and pained look on his face.<br/><br/>“Frank, wait! What the <em>HELL</em> is going on!?” But Frank was already gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>  <br/>While moving quickly through the morning crowd, Frank pulled up the earpiece from his pocket and put it in.<br/><br/>“Henry. Get me everything on Mercutio. Also, find out what you can about Fendi’s collection,” Frank grunted, ignoring Henry’s insisted apologizing and attempts of explaining himself. “Just <em>do</em> it.”<br/><br/>Frank was getting the feeling that it all bottled down to Fendi’s weird collection. How he didn’t know. He hated all this strange stuff. That thought gave him an idea. <br/><br/>“Henry. Check-in with Strange if you think you’ve got something.” <br/><br/>“Sure. I can do that. Frank, I‘m– “.<br/><br/>“Forget it. Focus on the mission.” <br/><br/>“Okay, you got it,” Henry asserted with a shaky voice and Frank could hear him clatter away on his keyboard. <br/><br/>“I don’t know if this is a lead or not but I’m getting noises about a restaurant in upper Manhattan. It’s a good place as many to start,” he said after a while and gave him an address. “I’ll get you what I can as it comes.”<br/><br/>“Copy that,” Frank affirmed and headed for the location. It didn’t take him long and he staked out the place. There was something going on but he needed a closer look. Frank went about getting appropriately dressed for kitchen work; easily taking out a worker on his smoke break and taking over his shift with an excuse of “new guy” and “sudden emergency”.<br/><br/>He hadn’t been there for more than an hour before something caught his eye - a waiter who looked curiously familiar. Abandoning his post and pulling his gun, Frank stalked the tall, bald and smiling man in the waiter’s clothes. It took Frank a moment to realize what has wrong with his face that made it so hard to pin down who he was - he was wearing a facial prosthetic. Right where a big scar shaped like a target should be. <br/><br/>Without further need for confirmation, Frank took the shot. At the last moment, the waiter raised the tray he was holding and it took the bullet that had been aimed for his head. Before Frank could go for a second shot, he had to throw himself away from the line of fire of the tray that was flying at him. He was certain that in Bullseye’s hands even that would have been enough to kill him. He could hear Bullseye’s laughter and Frank knew that he needed to get this fight out of the restaurant before the collateral damage started to include civilian lives. People were running and screaming, panic and confusion building, and it would be hell to maneuver in close quarters. <br/><br/>Kitchen knives came flying at him, confirming Bullseye’s position and that he hadn’t run for it. Ducking for cover, Frank moved behind the counters and tried to corner his target. The best way to deal with Bullseye was either so close up that the fucker couldn’t use ranged attacks or so far away that he hadn’t a clue you were there.  <br/><br/>“Is that <em>you</em>, Punisher? Come, play with me!” Bullseye laughed and Frank could see him arm up with right about everything within reach. He had no intention of letting him use any of it.   <br/><br/>Just as Bullseye turned to look behind the stoves, Frank went in for the ambush and tackled him from behind. Bullseye rolled with the fall and twisted in his grip, crazy fucker was slippery. They both lost their weapons but that didn’t mean anything. Punches, hits, and kicks were exchanged and Frank was having a hard time subduing the insane assassin, who was more agile than him and weighed as much as him due to the metal in his bones. They both scrambled for weapons and Bullseye got there first, the knife stabbed into Frank’s side, but the angle was off enough not to cause any lethal damage. However, the pain was distracting enough for Frank to lose his power position on top of Bullseye.<br/><br/>“Buddy, that was fun!” Bullseye laughed and pressed the knife to Frank’s throat, straddling him so close that he was right about lying on him. Bullseye was bleeding from his mouth and nose, blood dripping down on Frank who tried to find an out. <br/><br/>“You’re always <em>so</em> fun. How did you <em>know </em>I was here, Frank?” Bullseye asked with a bright smile, seemingly genuinely happy, and pressed the knife a bit closer.<br/><br/>“<em>Fuck</em> you,” Frank replied and spat blood in his face, trying to blind him. Bullseye was undeterred and merely broke his nose with a headbang in response, breaking his facial prosthetic and smearing his face with even more blood. <br/><br/>“Manners,” Bullseye chided and hummed to himself, licking off the blood on his lips. He seemed to have a moment of thought and then he licked Frank’s blood off his face as well; a wet drag of tongue from his chin to his cheek followed by a dark chuckle. Frank grimaced, but he had an idea. If he was going to be a <em>freak magnet</em> he might as well use it to his advantage.<br/><br/>Frank shifted his hips and quite deliberately squirmed under Bullseye, who in turn moaned loudly and grabbed him by the hair with his free hand.<br/><br/>“Cheating, Frank? No no-no-no, no <em>cheating</em>. Fuck, but you feel so <em>good</em> like this,” Bullseye mouthed at his face, licking blood and biting while rutting down at his body. The knife was still at his throat but Bullseye had completely lost focus. He just had to push him a bit <em>more</em>, however distasteful that might be. Frank opened his mouth and licked his teeth, and that was all the invitation Bullseye needed and latched onto his lips like a leech. All Frank could taste was blood and he longed to kill - but he needed to wait for the right moment. So instead, he kissed Bullseye back and teased him with violence just as much as sex, until he could feel the knife slide off his throat and clatter on the tiled floor. <br/><br/>Not losing a moment, Frank bit down hard on Bullseye’s lips and kneed him in the groin. He went down and Frank rolled him off him, scrambling for his own discarded gun. As he went for the shot he could feel that it was off, he managed to wing Bullseye in the arm, but the assassin was already on his feet and moving. <br/> <br/>“<em>Fucking</em> tease!” Bullseye shouted and returned fire, having acquired a gun from somewhere. Frank emptied his own gun at him and they both took cover once more.<br/><br/>There were sirens and people screaming, he didn’t have the <em>time</em> to play tag with a psychotic like Bullseye. Frank ditched the gun and went for the back door. He could feel the knives aimed for his back but he made it to the alley behind the restaurant. He broke into a run, his wounds aching and bleeding but he was still mobile.<br/><br/>“Henry. I need evac. I ran into Bullseye,” He barked into the earpiece as he passed the secure perimeter and blended with the crowd.<br/><br/>“You OK? Sure– I’ll give you a safe address,” Henry answered, alarmed and clattering away on his computer as usual.<br/><br/>“Come get me. I need help now. Losing blood.” Frank settled in an alley to catch his breath.<br/><br/>“I- I’ll be there, just give me a little time– <em>hang</em> on.”<br/><br/>Frank closed the link and settled to wait, keeping pressure on the wound on his side. He closed his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/><br/>“– you need to <em>stay</em> awake,” someone said and shook him. Frank woke up and stared up at a red cowl - it took him a while to recognize Daredevil. He must have passed out.         <br/><br/>“I thought I told you to <em>stay clear of me</em>.”<br/><br/>“I’m not that good at taking orders,” Daredevil responded and pressed down on his wound. “I got the news that Bullseye was in town after Mercutio, when I get here I get to chose between helping you or hunting him down.” <br/><br/>“Should have gone after him,” Frank protested, “I have help on the way.”<br/><br/>“They better get here soon then. Meanwhile, could you tell me what is going on?” <br/><br/>“You seem to know more than I do.”<br/><br/>“Yes, Mercutio. It’s a top-secret project - one of the Kingpin’s trusted men stole the files off him after he had it stolen off the Swiss. We’re still not clear on what it actually is -  but we’re working on it,” Daredevil explained, “What I’m more interested in is what’s going on with you, Frank.”<br/><br/>“I don’t know. That’s why you and everyone else better stay away from me,” Frank answered and struggled to his feet. It hurt but he could manage.</p>
<p>Where the hell was Henry?<br/><br/>“Frank, please. You have to trust me. Let me repay you,” Daredevil begged him, his voice low and soft, and steadied him with a firm grip. <em>Fuck</em>. It was too late.  <br/><br/>“Walk away before you do something you’ll regret. Walk. <em>Away</em>,” Frank insisted and tried to get Daredevil to let go of him. <br/><br/>Instead, <em>Matt </em>took a firmer hold of him and gently touched his face - reading it like the blind man he was. Fingers ghosted along stumble and line harsh lines of his face, lingered on cuts and bruises, felt blood and saliva on him, and Frank knew that Matt could tell who was responsible for all of it. The look on his face said as much. Anger and sadness fought with desire, all centered on small movements around his mouth as the rest was hidden by his cowl. It was intimate. More so than having Bullseye’s tongue in his mouth – or even the awkward and desperate press of lips from Henry. <br/><br/>“Murdock–” Frank started.<br/><br/>“I’m <em>sorry</em>,” Matt breathed and hovered his mouth a breath away from his, hesitant and resisting. After several moments of breathing the same air, he stepped away.<br/><br/>“Your ride is here. Take care, Frank,” Daredevil said and escaped just as Henry rolled in with the van.<br/><br/>“<em>Shit</em>! You’re bleeding all over the place!” Henry cried out and helped him to the back, treating his wounds with a single-mindedness Frank hadn’t seen in him before. Frank spent the time updating him on events. Several stitches and a mile of bandage later, Henry looked up from his work with a flush on his face. <br/>   <br/>“It’s nothing. What have you got for me?” Frank dismissed him and tried to keep his mind on the mission. Having Henry right there didn’t make it easy. The kid was hurting and Frank couldn’t help but care. He’d let himself get too close.<br/><br/>“Yeah, right. Work,” Henry replied, happy for the distraction, and clicked up several things on the screen. “The Mercutio files were stolen by a man called Lucky Mike. He wasn’t so lucky and now there’s a big hit on him. He was going to sell the files in the restaurant but after you guys shot the place up the deal’s off. Mike’s on the run. I’m guessing he won’t be running long. I have all channels open for intel, we’ll know the moment he makes move.” <br/><br/>“And as for Fendi’s collection– he had some freaky stuff. Mostly antique weaponry, but also some <em>allegedly</em> cursed items - mostly weapons again but a few other stuff. He had a thing for that,” Henry started and gave Frank a meaningful glance. “You take any off that?”<br/><br/>“I <em>used</em> nearly all of it when I killed off his entire household -- if that’s what you’re asking,” Frank answered flatly, holding a gun in his hand as a reminder of the need for personal space.<br/><br/>“According to my sources, most of the real mad mojo stuff needs prolonged contact or some kind of ritual components,” Henry clarified and turned back to his screen in a pointed manner. <br/><br/>“A knife. I took it with me. I cut my hand and I– blood. I bled,” he thought out loud and raised the hand in question, unwrapping the stained bandage. The wound underneath was an angry red with dark streaks and unnaturally waxy to the touch. <br/><br/>“Well– <em>shit</em>,”  Henry said. “I’ll get Doctor Strange on the phone.”<br/><br/>“I <em>hate</em> magic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/><br/>An hour later, Frank was standing outside of Doctor Strange’s even stranger home, it had appeared out of nowhere between two rundown buildings. Henry had stayed in the van for both of their sakes after having picked up the knife as per Strange’s instructions. <br/><br/>“I hate this,” Frank groused and got up the stairs, the door opened on its own and he walked in, clutching his gun like a lifeline.<br/><br/>“Welcome, Mr. Castle,” Doctor Strange greeted him as he reached a cluttered sitting room, “I can honestly say that I hadn’t expected this encounter of ours.”<br/><br/>“Just get it over with.”<br/><br/>“Please have a seat,” Strange indicated a seat. Frank stared at his seat with the same level of suspicion he usually reserved for hardened criminals. He sat down very reluctantly.  Strange grabbed his injured hand and inspected it closely, humming and muttering to himself.<br/><br/>“The knife, please,” he requested after a long silence, repeating the procedure with the blade.<br/><br/>“I’m afraid I <em>cannot</em> help you, Mr. Castle,” Strange finally said and Frank bolted up from his seat with a growl.<br/><br/>“Please do contain yourself, I cannot help you at this moment because <strong>this</strong> item is <strong>not</strong> the source of the curse,” Strange said before Frank could protest. “Find the real item - then, and only then can I be of assistance.”<br/><br/>“I have no damn idea what it could be if it’s not that,” Frank growled, barely keeping himself from shouting.<br/><br/>“You’ll figure it out, Mr. Castle,” Strange replied calmly, “you seem to be a very resourceful man.”<br/><br/>“Now you wait right there–” Frank started but found himself standing alone on the street outside of two rundown apartment buildings. “–I <em>hate</em> magic.”<br/><br/>“What happened?” Henry asked, opening the side door of the van as Frank walked up to him.<br/><br/>“It wasn’t it. It wasn’t the knife,” Frank gritted and stepped in, sitting down and burying his face in his hands.<br/><br/>“What now?” Henry asked as the silenced stretched.  <br/><br/>“I do my job,” Frank sighed and looked down at the naked wound on his hand, grabbing a bandage to wrap around it. He stilled mid-movement. <br/><br/>“Henry, Fendi’s collection. Did it say anything about cloth? Faded, gold at some point.”<br/><br/>“Um– I’ll check. Yeah. It did – well not exactly but I guess– something called a<em> Shroud of Eromeni</em> - at least I <em>think</em> that’s how you pronounce it. Supposedly had some curse on it,” Henry told him, “why you ask?”<br/><br/>“I think I used it to bind my hand,” Frank stated.<br/><br/>“–that’d do the trick, yes,” Henry said and eyed the gun in his hand. Just then the computer made a noise and a new window opened. <br/><br/>“It’s Lucky Mike. We got him!”<br/><br/>“I got him. You go and get what’s left of that shroud - it should be in the trash at the base,” Frank ordered and got dressed and suited up with weapons.<br/><br/>“Frank, you can’t– there will be hitmen after him. Is it smart considering–” Henry stammered, trailed off when he saw Frank’s expression and looked at him like a kicked dog.<br/><br/>“Take the van. I’ll get a car - Lucky Mike’s in Yonkers. Get in touch when you got it. I’ll be there when I got Mike down,” Frank said and stared him down, Henry crumbled again.<br/><br/>“And Mercutio?”<br/><br/>“I’ll give it to a lawyer I know,” Frank dismissed and left the van, he didn’t look back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/><br/>Frank got to Mike’s location just in time to see Lucky Mike’s brain splatter on the pavement. His bad luck streak had run its course. Familiar laughter echoed as Frank saw Bullseye saunter up to the body and bend down to loot the files. He went for the shot and caught Bullseye in the back with several shots; Bullseye dropped to the ground. <br/><br/>Gun ready, Frank advanced on their position, just as he came to close range Bullseye rolled and shot, Frank ran and shot back. The bastard had worn kevlar. <br/><br/>“Surprise!” Bullseye greeted him, “I thought you’d show, Frank. I’m <em>ready</em> for you.”<br/><br/>Frank didn’t waste any time mouthing off at the insane assassin but focused on taking him out. Bullseye was fast and skilled, and Frank knew that if he’d been trying seriously he’d already had a hole in his head. Bullseye was playing him. The piece of shit was <em>playing</em> him. He didn’t have the time for this shit. They were shooting on the streets in broad daylight, and it was only a matter of time until the place was swarming with uniforms. <br/><br/>“You know, Frank, I think we have a real <em>connection</em>. Pity that I have to kill you now,” Bullseye declared and raised a blade.<br/><br/>“Move,” and a crackle in his earpiece was the only warning Frank gets before Bullseye was run over by a van. Henry was behind the wheel, looking hunted, throwing open the door. Frank ran for the body, gets the file, and jumps in the van. Henry has them moving before he has the time to close the door.<br/><br/>“You got it?” they both ask. Both of them nod and Henry hits the gas just as police cars drive past them. They don’t talk during the ride. Henry was hanging onto the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white and his jaw is set. At Strange’s place, he just wordlessly hands Frank the blood-stained piece of cloth as he leaves the van.    </p>
<p>When Frank returned, Henry doesn’t ask. Frank doesn’t say anything. They won’t talk about it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>That night, Frank went to the roof and waited. Daredevil turned up a few hours later.<br/><br/>“Care to finally tell me what happened, Frank?”<br/><br/>“No,” Frank answered and held up the thick folder of files. “These are best left with you. A real page-turner. I thought everyone had gone digital.”<br/><br/>“You read it then,” Daredevil sighed and accepted the folder, “I’ll deal with it.”<br/><br/>“I guess you will,” Frank said and they stood like that for several moments. Unexpectedly, Daredevil broke the impasse by removing his cowl to show Matt Murdock. He'd known for a long time, but it wasn't like Matt to show himself on the job, so to speak.<br/><br/>“What are you trying–?” Frank wondered.<br/><br/>“To make you believe me when I say that regardless of what happened I–”<br/><br/>“No confessions, Murdock. I’m not your priest. I’ve had a weird enough day as it is." <br/><br/>“Frank, shut up,” Matt said and kissed him. It was the first kiss <em>today</em> that he didn't mind. Frank kissed him back.</p>
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